


xxx. now where did that come from?

by tempestaurora



Series: the kids aren't alright [whumptober 2020] [30]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Whump, Whumptober, wound reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: Seven instances in which the students of the Umbrella Academy reveal their injuries to the people they love.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Grace Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves
Series: the kids aren't alright [whumptober 2020] [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930186
Comments: 21
Kudos: 139





	xxx. now where did that come from?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMutantHonk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMutantHonk/gifts), [TiredofMyself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredofMyself/gifts), [DeadlyJellybaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyJellybaby/gifts).



> Prompt: Wound Reveal
> 
> almost done almost done almost done

ONE

Luther has always been strong and so being weak is not an option. In the aftermath of Hazel and Cha Cha’s attack, he stares at his body; the size, the hair, the exaggeration of every part of himself, and sighs.

It is Allison who finds him holed up in the bathroom, and Allison who only says his name before she shuts the door behind her and tries to help. He’s bleeding from where the chandelier came crashing down on him. Luther rarely bleeds anymore, and if he does he just lets it slow in its own time. But Allison frowns and goes to work.

She stares and tries not to.

TWO

Diego trudges back into the apartment in the early hours of the morning. He is as quiet as he can be, though everything hurts. He staggers through the dark, winces at the bright white light of the bathroom.

“Diego?”

“Dora,” he says. He pokes his head back out the door; she’s a shadow by the bedroom. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

But she comes over anyway, gasps at the sight of his face, all bruised and bloody, and then tries to smile, like it’s not that bad.

It _is_ that bad. He knows it.

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?” she whispers, both of them staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“I can’t Dora,” Diego sighs. “I can’t yet.”

THREE

Allison is followed home by three white men that set her nerves on edge.

She and Ray live in a nicer neighbourhood, but it’s dark now, and he’s not expecting her back for another hour at least.

The men catch up to her fast, and she does what she does remarkably well. Allison Hargreeves was trained to kick ass, and so she does – but they get in a few hits too, one slamming into her nose and sending warm blood into her mouth.

When she reaches home, Ray calls out, “Allison? That you?”

“Y-yeah, Ray.”

She hears him coming. “You’re not supposed to be home for— _holy mother of god,_ Allison! What happened?”

She catches sight of her face in the entrance way mirror. The crooked nose, the mouth drenched in blood and covering her clothes. She has not cried over a cut or a broken bone since she was small; that was trained out of her. Allison does not start crying now.

FOUR

Klaus scrambles into new clothes while Diego waits in the doorway. They’ve got things to do; apocalypses to prevent. He pulls off his shirt and throws it on the bed while he searches for the next one.

“Hey—hey,” Diego says. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Diego frowns and moves up beside him, wrenching him into the light with calloused hands. There’s a scar in the space of skin between Klaus’ bicep and shoulder; it’s wide and jagged, a horizontal stripe.

“What’s _that?_ Since when was that there?”

“Oh, that? I was shot.”

Diego chokes. “You were _shot?_ ”

“In Vietnam.” He checks on the scar. The bullet had scraped through a good few layers of skin – but it was a lucky miss. Dave had hauled him to the medtent for the rush job of stitches. “Healed up kinda wonky, huh?”

FIVE

They are in the wrong timeline when Five feels woozy and collapses. He heaves on the ground of the Sparrow Academy lounge in front of his father and these alternate child superheroes, blood pooling on the floor below him.

“What’s happening? Five! What’s happening?”

“When did he get _shot?_ ”

Diego’s face appears over his, eyes wide and panicked. “I thought I redirected the bullets—why didn’t you _say?_ ”

The wounds are mostly healed; the bullets that tore up his stomach missing. It was Five’s first attempt at short time travel, and while his siblings were saved from the Handler, there had been a persistent pain in his stomach telling him he hadn’t sent his body back adequately. He hadn’t got it exactly right.

“It wasn’t you,” Five says, as Luther argues with another version of their father to help him. “I’ll be okay.”

“Like _hell_ you will be,” Allison growls, standing. She levels her gaze at Reginald. “I heard a rumour you’d do anything to help Five.”

SIX

Number Six curls in on himself. His stomach hurts. It always hurts. It hurts even when it’s okay. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and wills it to stop, and then sniffs sharply when it doesn’t.

The door creaks open and Six jumps.

“It’s just me,” Four whispers, shutting the door behind him. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Wasn’t scared,” Six mumbles. He shuts his eyes again and feels the weight of the bed shift as Four climbs under the covers with him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Can hear Two practising in his room.”

“Knives?”

“Talking.”

Six nods and groans as the pain flares across his stomach.

“Are you okay?”

He nods but his whole face scrunches up anyway.

“Sixy—what’s happening? Is it your stomach? Mom can give you something if you’ve got a stomach ache.”

Six rolled onto his back and hissed, his arms momentarily flying away from his stomach. That’s all Four needs to tug up the bottom of his shirt and yelp, before slapping a hand across his mouth.

“Is that…?”

Six nods.

“Are they always like that?”

Six nods again.

Four replaces the shirt and curls up against Six’s side, knowing there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m sorry, Sixy. I’m sorry it hurts.”

They lie awake together as the tentacles of an eldritch horror continue to slither underneath the surface of his skin, trying to force their way through.

SEVEN

Vanya could _not_ be hurt. She couldn’t be. She didn’t train like her siblings and she certainly didn’t throw herself into danger like them. It would be utterly ridiculous for her to be hurt!

And yet—she may have fallen down the stairs. Just a little. Just a scooch.

And now she was hobbling into the lounge, desperately trying to think of an excuse – Dad would be _pissed_ if she hurt herself.

“Oh no, oh god, oh no,” she muttered, until she collapsed onto the sofa with a huge huff. Everything hurt; especially her back. Nothing felt broken, but everything was probably bruised. She couldn’t do this. She _couldn’t._ She was thirteen and she was hurting.

“Mom!” she called. Then again: “MOM!” until Mom came stepping through the doorway with a gentle smile on her face.

“Vanya, darling. What’s the matter?”

If Mom found out, Dad would find out. Everyone would know she fell down the stairs, and then she’d be the clutz who couldn’t be trusted with _anything_ , let alone missions. But she _really_ hurt.

“Vanya,” Mom said. “Are you alright?”

She stopped holding back and let out a sob, and her mother rushed right to her side.

**Author's Note:**

> tomorrow's the last day i cannot wait to be FREE


End file.
